


Late

by MirellaPryce



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: BlackIce, Blackfrost - Freeform, Character Death, Evil Boyfriends, Global Warming, M/M, Sad, pitch frost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirellaPryce/pseuds/MirellaPryce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it was too late. Too late for fun and living, but if they didn't try now, then it would be when "late" took on another meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lindzzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindzzz/gifts).



It started off as a simple rumour. Global warming they said. The world will burn, the ice will melt, and there will be no more winter. Like most of the rest of the world, they just laughed it off and added it to a growing list of terrors they could exploit on dark nights.  
  
Then it started to seem less unbelievable. If anything, this new "rumour" was gaining more believers than even some of the guardians. It was a frightening concept, but one that they still laughed in the face of. Then again, wasn't that how Jack dealt with all his fears? Suddenly, Pitch wasn't so certain this global warming thing was so funny. Jack just shrugged when he tried to confront the boy on it.  
  
"C'mon, like winter is really going to end? What do you think I'm here for? Relax. I'm not going anywhere." After that Jack had kissed him, and his lips were so cold that Pitch couldn't help but believe him.  
  
Then the science that was so adamant about their lack of existence changed the name to something less frightening. Global climate change. "It's great!" Jack would crow, knee deep in snow. Now I can make it snow whenever I want and no one can even get angry!" And he was so happy, flying about the winds, and starting snowball fights in the middle of May, that Pitch couldn't bring himself to doubt for one second that Jack was right.  
  
Besides, it frightened the humans to be so uncertain of the weather, and it pissed off the guardians that Jack had more control and right over his domain now.  
  
And it made Jack happy; this new world.  
  
Didn't it?  
  
Years continued to pass, and Pitch’s powers grew stronger with the growing panic. Crops were dying, animals' internal clocks were skewed and everything was chaos and fear, and beautiful.  
  
Not everything was right though. Winters began to start later and end earlier. When Pitch would ask, Jack would only smile and reply "It's only fair that my season be a little shorter, if I'm going to be invading everyone else's seasons right?" Pitch just nodded, not sure how to feel about his little devil prince being so altruistic. It was much easier to just accept that Jack was okay ( _would always be okay. Had to be okay_ ), and to ignore the tired look in his eyes.  
  
It steadily became more difficult to ignore as time continued to pass, and the humans continued to do nothing about the changing planet that they feared. The first signs were obvious, when Jack went back to his old ways of hiding in summer. Gone were the days of snowstorms in July. Now he spent the time of year that wasn't his, sleeping underground.  
  
"I must be getting old," he'd laugh. "It's nothing Pitch," he would insist, and push the older spirit away. “It's just warm out today. You know me though. I love a challenge. I just need to rest up a bit, and raise my strength. Then I'll give them a blizzard they'll be talking about for at least the next decade." It was harder to ignore how quickly Jack had nodded off after Pitch had agreed to the plan. He had held the boy in his arms all night, and wondered if Jack had always been quite so much smaller than himself.  
  
Jack didn't thrash once, even though Pitch woke what must have been hours later than the younger, teen spirit. "Morning sleepy head. There're some clouds out today. What do you say we make the rain into snow?" And in that moment, Jack looked so quietly pleased, that Pitch had to kiss the boy to find out if this smile tasted different from Jack's usual bright smiles. The tired smile disappeared quickly, when Jack remembered just how much fun kissing was, and the bright laughter returned to his grin.   
  
Pitch had caught the taste for just a moment though, and it was enough to let Jack go. "Don't you have some trouble to brew up above?" He released white hair from his grip, with a great deal of effort, and smiled as he watched the wind carry Jack to his feet.  
  
"You coming?" he asked, holding out a hand to carry them both away on the wind.  
  
"I think I shall stay behind for now. I'll catch up when. Go on, you're late." Jack only cocked an eyebrow at Pitch’s odd behaviour, but nodded anyway.   
  
"If you say so then. You're going to miss the best part though." Pitch didn't miss the sadness that didn't belong in those blue eyes this time. Now he was even more aware of the winter spirit than ever, and he knew the boy's fear immediately from just that sentence.  
  
The boy left, and Pitch breathed a sigh of relief from the overwhelming anxiety in the room. Jack's kiss had tasted like a melting mountain glacier.  
  
For the rest if the day, Pitch’s hands felt empty, and flexed impatiently. He hadn't wanted to let Jack go that morning, but stronger than the instinct to keep Jack close and never let go was the feeling that he should give him this one last bit of freedom. Before he could never let Jack go again. Before he would need to protect him for his own good.  
  
Later in the evening he would find Jack drenched on a rooftop, and watching the city shuffle through a rather pitiful sleet.  
  
"I guess it's just too warm after all." Pitch wrapped his arms around him from behind, and he couldn't tell ( _didn't want to know_ ) if the sounds that came from Jack was breaking laughter or sobbing. The sounds were muffled in the shadows he pulled them into, and everything was pleasantly colder down below.  
  
He kept Jack wrapped in that same darkness for months afterwards. It hurt him to see Jack denied the freedom he wanted, but this was for the best.  
  
Even though they were among some of the most frightening nightmares this far down, it was for the best.  
  
Even watching Jack lose his mind a little more every time he returned, from the isolation and the fears, it was for the best.  
  
Even when all the nightmares brought him Jack's terrors and Jack's screams, it was for the best.  
  
Even when Jack cried and screamed in the cage of his arms, that he hated him, Pitch just held him closer, and kissed as much white hair and pale skin as he could.  
  
This was for the best.  
  
It wasn't until North came storming in, demanding to know if there was to be any winter that year that Pitch thought maybe, the temperatures would be naturally cold enough to handle Jack's snow. So he let Jack out in the later months of winter, and with one hand on the boy's shoulder, he let winter unfold itself as it was always meant to. Santa had looked over the controlling action with disdain, but he got his white Christmas as he requested, and Jack looked a little healthier out in the open.  
  
All the glow and cheer disappeared though, when the snow melted on New Year's eve. Even North and the other guardians turned a blind ear to Jack's pleas, when Pitch pulled him back under. The old man was wise enough to see what was going on. He would not get in the way of Pitch keeping the youngest spirit alive.  
  
However long he could.  
  
The Earth continued to warm, and Pitch even feared holding Jack some days, for fear of being too warm for him to handle. The worst part was his uncertainty if that fear originated in him, or if it was more of Jack's fears being shared with him. He would let Jack out about once a year, when he felt it was chilly enough, but even the poles didn't reach much lower than 10 below anymore. Many following Christmases ceased to be merry, white things. Children grew up only knowing of winter and snow in their books.

Jack was fading.  
  
He didn't even scream or fight anymore. Jack was far from the bright, energetic and happy spirit he was so long ago.  
  
It killed Pitch to only be able to watch. No matter how much fear of the heat he instilled in even the most powerful and influential humans, it was too late. He had sworn that day he'd let Jack go out for his last summer storm, that he would never let him go again, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle Jack letting HIM go any better.  
  
He delved low into the dungeon of dark and cold nightmares where Jack was kept safe, and couldn't find Jack anywhere. Surely not in this white haired puppet that barely moved. Barely smiled. Barely said a word.  
  
He ran his hands through the boy's hair in the way that Jack used to love. He tried for what could have been minutes or hours to get a response, in all the ways he know how from the boy, but the most he got was a low hum and the press of a pale face into a gray hand.  
  
Jack was gone.  
  
Quietly, he stood and left it alone again.   
  
It was with great reluctance that he approached Sanderson, but the fellow dream spirit read his look and could tell what needed doing without Pitch having to say a word.  
  
It may have been the advantage of having the Sandman out of the way, but more likely, it was the rage -- rage at the humans for doing this, rage at the Earth for being so warm, rage at himself for not seeing things for what they were sooner, rage at Jack for leaving him behind. All sleeping humans had night terrors beyond their wildest dreams that night, and no one could have stopped it.  
  
While Pitch vented his frustrations to the world, the Sandman dived into the darkest parts of Pitch’s home in search of the winter spirit. Black sand turned to gold all around him, and still there was more black sand below him, hiding Jack Frost in a sea of nightmares.  
  
By the time he found the white haired spirit, everything was glowing in gold, without a trace of black sand to be found. Maybe it was selfish, but Jack had also been his friend, and he wanted the chance to say goodbye if he could. He shook the boy’s shoulder and waited for some kind of response. He had to repeat the action a few times, but slowly he began to stir. The old spirit couldn’t help the smile on his face when sleepy blue eyes finally opened and settled on him.  
  
“Huh? Hey Sandy,” the winter spirit grinned, a sad echo of what it once was. Sandy waved back, hoping his smile wasn’t as sad as he felt. “How’s it going? Wait, wasn’t I in Pitch’s...? Where am I?”  
  
Sandy slowly explained what he could that wouldn’t frighten Jack. He had to repeat himself more than once for the young spirit to understand, but eventually Jack understood that he was still in Pitch’s lair, and that he had granted Sandy access to his home so that he could give Jack some nice dreams.  
  
He guessed more from that than he was meant to.  
  
Sandy couldn’t deny he was correct.  
  
“I’m surprised Pitch chose not to be here for this. He would certainly be able to talk me to death." Sandy gave him a chastising look for joking about the situation so lightly, and Jack gave a meek apology in turn. "What time of year is it anyway?"  
  
Sandy could hardly be expected to be specific, but he was able to give Jack the jist.  
  
"Right. So I have a plan. Could you help me out, and give a message to North?" Sandy nodded, and heard Jack out. When they were done, Sandy covered Jack's eyes in a veil of dream sand and gave the boy his last pleasant dream.  
  
By the time Pitch returned, Jack was gone, and there was no one to hear his own screams and cries.

  
  
As usual, there was no snow in the weeks preceding Christmas, but this year Pitch didn't care what that implied. He knew exactly what was meant and missed by it. He had thought of having some kind of service for the late winter spirit, but really, what would he even do? He'd already spent the last week downtrodden and mourning. His body still ached to hold Jack, even though his mind knew this was impossible.  
  
And of course, the wind couldn't have just left. No, it had to search through every tunnel for its playmate. Pitch wanted to scream that Jack wasn’t here. Was never coming back, and that the wind should have died along with him. If the wind really did possess its own spirit though, it didn't acknowledge Pitch. It wanted Jack and wouldn't be satisfied by the truth.  
  
Then one day, it left all at once. With a large woosh that rattled all the cages and disturbed every nightmare and shadow, all the wind sucked out of the cave and into the sky above. He wanted to just be grateful that the most painful reminder of Jack was gone ( _never the last reminder. Nothing would ever be able to remove Jack's memory. He was forever scarred on every inch of his being_ ), but it seemed odd that it would only leave now after weeks of searching the same cages, bridges, rooms and corridors.  
  
Only the day gave itself away as a hint; December 24th. It had been so long since he had even acknowledged the holiday he had almost forgotten it existed. With little to no snow for the last several decades, Christmas was almost as far off a dream as a winter wonderland. The only pleasure that Jack's death might have brought him ( _long ago. So long ago that he could ever think of a life without Jack_ ) was that with no white Christmases, Santa was losing his believers. Perhaps the winds believed Jack had left him after all this time, in favour of the jolly, old Russian.  
  
A bitter laugh barked its way out of his throat at that thought. Of all the things he had always feared, he suddenly wished it were true that the guardians had taken Jack away. "You're not going to find him," he muttered to the wind, even after it had left. "He's nowhere to be found now. The winter is de-"  
  
As quickly as the wind had rushed out, it stormed back in with a great gale force, cutting him off. It swirled all around him with a renewed vigour he hadn't been tormented with in years. "What do you want?" he snarled at the invisible hands that tugged at his cloaks. "Are you so excited to realize he's not here?! Of course he's not! I already told you, he's GONE!" The winds died down a little at his screaming, but he still felt the breeze pulling at his skin. It took a moment to recognize the caress on his face, and his eyes flew open.  
  
Cold?  
  
"Jack?" he whispered, not daring to believe.  
  
He nearly flew out of his lair to chase the wind and its promises. The sight that greeted him was blinding. Snow! Beautiful flakes of the white stuff everywhere, and the cold wind flew through it with joy. He might have laughed if he didn't have more important things on his mind.  
  
Jack.   
  
"Where is he?" he demanded when it didn't immediately become obvious. He had expected that finding Jack would merely be a matter of coming up to meet him, like so many times before.   
  
Coming to find the boy waiting for him on the bed post.  
  
Coming out to fire projectiles at annoying fairies with him.  
  
Coming up in waiting for Jack every night when he was gone for a particularly long stretch of time.  
  
Other than the snow though, there was no immediate sign of the winter spirit anywhere. The wind flocked around him again, and began to tug him up. The wind wanted him to fly. To drag him sprawling into the sky, all just to chase an impossible dream. "Stop!" he screamed, and snatched his cloaks more tightly around him. With a raised hand, a nightmare materialised from the shadows and came to its master. He mounted the mare in a much more dignified manner, and glared, even with no particular direction to look in. "Lead and we shall follow." He didn't go on to utter any kind of threat, because there was none to give. If the wind was wrong, it had just as much to lose as he did.  
  
The wind pulled again, desperate to get moving. Wherever it was leading them, it was in a hurry to get there. A hurry to be reunited with the winter. If Pitch knew where they were going, he was sure he'd be every part as desperate together there.  
  
The gust took him north, far from home, far above Canada, until it was obvious there was only one place they could be going. He almost wanted to call the whole thing off and turn around there, but what if-?  
  
What if Jack was really there, and alive? Oh, no doubt he'd rip the boy away from the guardians as soon as he got there, but what if by some small chance Jack's disappearance had just been another attempt at kidnapping? Whatever the case, he would have to deal with Sanderson later.  
  
Suddenly the wind picked up speed, and it nearly toppled them in the air. Just as Pitch was about to shout at the bodiless spirit, or whatever it was, he caught sight of what had caused the stir. A giant maelstrom stood ahead of them. The size could rival any building that the humans, a hundred times over, and the sheer amount of ice and snow blowing through it made it breathtaking.  
  
Cold, dangerous and wild.

Just like Jack.  
  
The wind abandoned him once more to join in the storm, and he could only stare in wonder. Was Jack even in there? How was he even supposed to approach the thing, let alone get in ( _or out if it turned out this was all for naught_ )?   
  
There were enough shadows this far north, at this time of year. He should be able to slip through them if there was anything besides white in there. With a breath and some kind of prayer to no one in particular, he dismounted the nightmare and dismissed her. He closed his eyes and slipped into the shadows, finding comfort in the dark like a blanket. That comfort was ripped to shreds when he found the exit he was looking for. Once inside, everything was ice and wind and NOISE. It was absolutely deafening in the vortex, somewhere between ear drum breaking volumes, and noise that disappeared, it was so loud.  
  
None of that mattered though.  
  
It didn't matter that his voice was swept away as soon as words left his mouth.  
  
"Jack." He was sure he must have whispered, it sounded so quiet to his ears.  
  
There was Jack.  
  
Even though he said it so quietly, and even though the wind was screaming in a way that rivalled even his most violent episodes, the boy turned around at the sound of his name.  
  
Pitch was thrown off by just how beautiful he was. He was just as he remembered, and his smile was that same one he spent a year and then centuries afterwards needing to taste. Here, flying in the ice wind and snow, his Jack had been returned. Was alive.  
  
He laughed, and no reaction would have better suited the moment Jack's eyes landed on him. Those blue eyes sparkled, and somehow his smile grew wider as he swooped in to Pitch's arms. It was the most surreal thing, being surrounded by winter, and surrounding winter all at the same time. He couldn't help but snatch Jack's face and press it into his own. It had been too long, far too long since it had been safe enough to be so close.  
  
All thoughts were cut off when he recognised the frosty taste on his lips.  
  
Melt water.  
  
He stared, unnaturally quiet now. Jack had flown them up higher in his excitement, but his laughter also quieted when he noticed the dead look in Pitch's stare.  
  
"What is this?" He didn't need to speak up to know Jack could hear him.  
  
Jack's smile visibly dimmed, but it still managed to outshine anything Pitch had seen in the years he'd been protecting Jack underground. "Just a bit of fun. One last snow day." At that comment, Pitch snarled, ready to tell Jack that he would not lose him again. They would find somewhere dark and cold and SAFE. Jack stopped him before he could say anything though, with a kiss that tasted too much of goodbye. "Snow Pitch," he breathed, far too happy for someone who could disappear at any moment. "Snow absolutely everywhere. One last snow day, and it's the biggest one of all.  
  
"What is it all worth though? Why one big snow day? Why not live for other smaller ones?" Pitch desperately wanted a reason for Jack to hold on, and after what he'd put him through, Pitch very much doubted he could argue that Jack stay for his sake. The winds around them only grew stronger, but he wanted to try anything. He wasn't letting Jack go so easily this time. Not while he was alive and in his arms.  
  
"Keep this up and you'll die!" he shouted, clutching onto the winter spirit's arms, and forcing him to look Pitch in the eye.  
  
A moment later, he really wished he hadn't. Jack's smiles were meant to be mischief, and blinding sunshine reflecting in the snow. This imitation, whatever it was, was just heartbreaking and it spoke volumes louder than the storm, and words he didn't want to hear. Jack just had time go and say them out loud though.  
  
"I'm already dying anyway Pitch." All the air was knocked from his lungs. It was one thing to know. Another to think the one you were protecting was already dead, but no, Jack of all beings should be the last person on the planet to know the feeling of dying. "I have been for a long time. The thing is Pitch that I haven't really been LIVING either for the last half century or so. This here," he twisted them around, so that Pitch could see the storm all around them. "This is my last chance to let the world know that Jack Frost lived. This is my last chance to really show the world what snow, and winter and FUN is all about."  
  
And what was there to say to that? How was he supposed to respond, knowing that everything Jack was saying was true? Jack was not someone to be kept _surviving_ alone. No, if it was really Jack, he had to be doing something, anything or everything. He had to be _living_. It was very rarely that anyone could silence him, but if Pitch had to count the number of times it had happened, he could almost guarantee that every dumb-founding moment was this child's fault. 

This stupid, aggravating, annoying, infuriating, frustrating, maddening, beautiful, PERFECT child.  
  
He couldn't say anything, so he just pulled Jack in close for another kiss. This one was filled with all his selfish wishes he could no longer voice.   
  
Stay here.  
  
Don't go.  
  
Don't leave me.  
  
"Please Pitch," Jack finally breathed when the older spirit let him go for a moment. "Let me live just a little longer."  
  
All of Pitch's words caught in his throat, so he could only nod, and pull the boy impossibly closer. They stayed there for what could have been minutes, hours or years; suspended in the eye of a storm that would blanket the world in snow for one final white Christmas.

When the storm around them grew more erratic, Jack tried to push Pitch out, but this was the one subject on which Pitch would not be moved. He held on to the boy, while the ice narrowed in and pelted them both. Jack was becoming weak now, and Mother Nature was taking back control.  
  
"You know that fear's not dead, right Bogeyman? You'd better get out of here soon, or else you'll be stuck here."  
  
Startled, Pitch leaned back to get a better look at the weak spirit telling him this. That was the first he'd heard of this twist, "What are you talking about Frost!?" he inquired, and looked for the answer in fading blue eyes.  
  
"I don't know what'll happen to this storm when I'm gone," he explained, breathing slowly, but still smiling. Always smiling. "It could fade, or it might go out of control completely. Either way, I don't think you want to be stuck in the middle when it happens.  
  
The frozen cogs in Pitch's brain began to turn again with this news, and the first thing he said with his most victorious smile yet was, "No."  
  
"What?- No, Pitch, seriously, you need to get out!" Jack's fear was washing over him in waves, but Pitch couldn't help but laugh at the cause. He was more afraid of losing Pitch, than his own death. Well, he was the King of Nightmares for a reason, and if there was one thing he knew how to exploit, it was fear.  
  
"I'm not leaving!" he shouted over the gale, looking far more pleased than he should have. "I'm not letting go." As if to emphasize his point, he clutched onto Jack's shoulders, tight enough to bruise. "And I'm not losing you again." Jack's mouth hung open in shock, and Pitch couldn't help but steal another taste. He'd had an eternity to memorize everything about the boy, and yet that hadn't been enough. He would never have gotten enough of his wonderful Jack if he tried, but he preferred it this way. That Jack could always make things new and exciting, and so full of surprises. Soon enough, Jack was clutching onto his hair just as tightly, and Pitch knew then, that Jack wouldn't be letting go either.  
  
"Freeze it!" he shouted, once they'd surfaced for air. "Before it stops, just freeze it all. Just like this. With both of us inside." He couldn't be sure Jack was listening anymore, since the boy seemed more set on kissing him absolutely everywhere he had access. He carried on anyway, not missing the drop in temperature. "Create some kind of permanent mark on this planet Jack Frost; that the humans will never be able to forget!" The snow steadily became more hail and ice and freezing water, and Pitch could only continue to encourage him with his constant stream of words. "Freeze the storm, and let me stay with you forever. I may not die. As you said, there's always fear, but let me stay surrounded by you and holding you forever. Let this be our legacy!"  
  
"Shut up, would you?" Jack snarled, and pulled Pitch in for one last kiss. The air around them froze, but all that mattered now was the mix of heat and cold they made together. Dark and Winter forever entwined, and forever encased in ice as the storm solidified and came to an end.

  
  
"'Let's give them something to really believe in!' he says. I think he may have done just that," the old Russian smiled up at the impossible structure above. Somewhere in there, the ice had hidden away two of the most evil creatures on the planet, and even though they were better off like this, it wasn't because they were removed from the world. Rather, like this, they would both always be a part of this world, and they would always be together.

"My friend," he said, turning to the dream weaver at his side. "When we are all gone, you will pass on this story yes? When the world begins to cool again and a new winter spirit is chosen, I hope you will bring them here. Tell them all about Jack Frost, and even if this new spirit is believed in around the globe, be sure to let them know just how big the shoes they have to fill are. You will do this?"  
  
Sandy didn't take his eyes off the pillar, but with a solemn expression, he nodded. He didn't like to think of any more of his companions dying, but he knew the strength Santa carried was only a result of a very successful Christmas. That power would fade once the snow melted once and for all, and years from now Santa would only be a dream he brought to children who needed a light in the dark of winter. He owed it to all of them though. He would be around the longest, and he would carry on their memories as long as his own memory would allow. He had a feeling Jack Frost might just be permanently marked in his memory forever though. That bright and fun loving spirit that always seemed to radiate, and who could never stay still. The only one who could ever have taken on Pitch. Although Tooth and Bunny had campaigned against their relationship, long after he had thrown in the towel himself, he knew they were mutually unhealthy for each other, and the best thing for each other at the same time. Jack Frost may not have made Pitch Black a good person, but he made him something more than fear, dark and bad dreams.  
  
Sandy just smiled at his old friend, and floated back to North's home on the same cloud of sand that spirited Jack away from the realm of nightmares. He had given him good dreams of how the cold and dark had lived intertwined, and Jack had simply added a last memory to the dream on his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much REALLY SAD. Funny thing is that the original plan was a different version of this, with a FOLLOW UP that would make this a THOUSAND TIMES SADDER. I suppose I could still do something similar? Or maybe I'll turn it into a sad follow up to Kalael's Evil Girlfriends series...
> 
> Or I could do my homework since that's all due next week, and I have no weekend to myself...
> 
> Point being, Lindzzz's works are all far too much of an inspiration to NOT have written a fanfiction for her fanfiction. I swear, the next one is full of happy feelings and cute things! >.>
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it. I'm actually very proud of this one!


End file.
